


The Third Twin

by flowers_and_thorns



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Character Study, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drama, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Love Triangles, M/M, OT3, Porn With Plot, Sibling Incest, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, Twincest, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 19:20:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30043479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowers_and_thorns/pseuds/flowers_and_thorns
Summary: Why Aran puts up with these twins, he isn’t too sure. Maybe it’s just the familiarity he finds comforting. He knows the lazy smirk Atsumu gets when he’s about to say something devastating but pretend like he was just being “honest.” He knows the way Osamu’s jaw sets when he’s really pissed off but isn’t going to tell anyone about it. And when that kind of shit starts happening, Aran knows a fight is bound to break out among his teammates, and he knows exactly how to diffuse it.But one day, there’s an upheaval that Aran does not predict. One that, unlike anything else he has faced with these two, he simply cannot fix.And it changes everything.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu/Miya Osamu/Ojiro Aran, Miya Atsumu/Ojiro Aran, Miya Osamu/Ojiro Aran
Comments: 14
Kudos: 62





	The Third Twin

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains a threesome involving the Miya twins and Aran Ojiro. Content warning for incest and the exploration of unhealthy relationships between underage characters. If any of that subject matter upsets you, I would stop reading now. 
> 
> Optional listening: “Show Me How” by Men I Trust

The worst thing about being friends with the Miya twins is knowing that everyone worships these two completely unlikeable jerks who have zero redeeming qualities as if they’re celebrities or something.

But Aran knows the real twins. He knows that Atsumu wet the bed until he was twelve. He knows that Osamu still can’t sleep without a nightlight in their shared room. He’s had to referee countless petty disputes between them, like who gets the window seat on the bus ride to their games, or which of them can jump higher. 

He knows that Atsumu is selfish and egotistical to a fault, and that while Atsumu enjoys his absurd popularity at school, he actually has very few close friends because most people are repelled by him the minute they actually start getting to know him. 

He knows that Osamu has an inferiority complex and is too scared to really try at volleyball because deep down he thinks Atsumu will always outcompete him, so not trying his best protects his fragile pride. And this makes Osamu act like a frigid asshole a lot of the time. Which also brings his Real Friend count close to zero.

And if you’re one of the vanishingly few people who actually, truly get to know the twins, their enthralling quirkiness that initially drew you in quickly gives way to obnoxious predictability. Aran would know: it got old when he was eleven years old, and it’s been old ever since. Why he puts up with these two, he isn’t too sure. Maybe it’s just the familiarity he finds comforting. He knows the lazy smirk Atsumu gets when he’s about to say something devastating but pretend like he was just being “honest.” He knows the way Osamu’s jaw sets when he’s really pissed off but isn’t going to tell anyone about it. And when that kind of shit starts happening, he knows a fight is bound to break out among his teammates, and he knows exactly how to diffuse it.

But one day, there’s an upheaval that Aran does not predict, one that, unlike anything else he has faced with these two, he simply cannot fix.

And it changes everything.

~~

It starts about two weeks before the twins’ birthday.

Over the years, the three have had the tradition of doing something together. One year it was seeing the premiere of a Marvel movie at midnight. Another year it was taking a weekend trip to Kyoto. For the sake of fairness (and avoiding petty fights) the agreement has always been for Aran to secretly choose what they’re doing and to surprise the twins with whatever it is.

But that lunch in the cafeteria, Atsumu sidles up to Aran, by sliding next to him at the table where he sits. “This year, I think I should choose what we’re doing for our birthday,” Atsumu mutters under his breath excitedly, as if afraid Osamu might come and overhear at any moment. 

Aran shrugs this off and pops a sushi roll from his bento into this mouth. “I’ve got it covered, I’ll let y’all know what I come up with when it’s time.”

Atsumu drapes an arm over Aran’s shoulder and nuzzles his neck. “Come _on_ ,” he says. “I got sick last time remember?” 

Aran remembers. They went on a ferry ride, and Atsumu was really seasick the entire time, barfing while Osamu and Aran took selfies and looked for seals in the water. 

He shrugs again. “Yeah, but that’s not Osamu’s fault or anything.”

To Aran’s surprise, Atsumu looks genuinely hurt as he sits up and recoils. “I thought you’d see it my way. It’s only fair.” He tuts and looks away from Aran, getting that pout he uses to win favors like test answers or homework help from pretty girls he bad mouths the second they leave. “I always knew you liked Osamu more than me.” 

“What?” Aran says. And as if on cue Osamu saunters over with his tray and sits across from them.

“I want to do something with Aran on our birthday,” Atsumu announces. “It’s only fair after what happened last year. You can have him the next day.”

“No way,” Osamu says casually before gulping from a bottle of cold green tea.

This is an interesting one. Fighting over who gets to play a video game next when they’re at Aran’s house? Over who gets to sit shotgun when Aran drives them around in his father’s Toyota? That, Aran is used to. But over Aran himself? That hasn’t happened since they were little kids and the twins still treated Aran like a novelty. The first time he stayed the night at their house, they argued over who Aran should sit next to at the dinner table, to the point where Atsumu tackled Osamu to the floor while their mother looked on, exasperated, and apologized profusely for their behavior (it was only resolved when their parents moved seats so that they _both_ could sit next to him). Then it was over who got to give up their bed for Aran. Then it was over who got to play with Aran… 

At the time, he lapped up this unprecedented attention from his new friends like a cat at a saucer of milk. In the past, he’d only been bullied or ostracized for being different—but suddenly, two of the coolest kids he knew were fighting over _him._ When he told his dad about it, his father was less impressed. “I don’t want these kids treating you like some sort of exotic pet,” he said. Though at eleven Aran did not have the same discernment as his father, who had grown up Black in the United States, Aran then wondered if this special treatment was just the novelty of them having a halfu friend. After all, the first thing that caught their attention was Aran’s “cool” foreign-sounding name.

But if that was so, the novelty soon wore off—on both sides. The twins started treating Aran like an extension of themselves, whispering not only into each other’s ears during breaks in volleyball practice, but also waving him over to share the secrets with him, and soon enough, Aran got to see how lame they really were. One was afraid of the dark, the other wet the bed, neither of them really had any friends. That has been an ability the twins have somehow always carried with them: this weird propensity to be the “cool kids” whether it’s grade school, middle school or high school, while secretly being the lamest, most socially-maladjusted weirdos imaginable. 

And then it became obvious: the twins' fascination with Aran is not that he is halfu or Black or has a foreign name. It’s that the twins sense in him the same isolation that exists for them. It’s that there is no one else they can loop into their circle, that he alone effortlessly understands their language. He is the third twin.

But now that they are fighting over him at age 17 rather than 11, after Aran has endured years of their petty bickering, it’s annoying rather than flattering. “Choose,” they chorus in unison under the fluorescent cafeteria lights, in that eerie synchronous way they have every once in a while. 

Aran sighs. “We’re all going together like we always do.”

“No way!” “I’m not going if he’s there!”

Aran stands, snapping his bento box shut. “Well, then I’m not going either.”

Atsumu groans, losing his temper as always and stalks off. Osamu shrugs, looking stoic as ever before he takes out a magazine and begins to flip through it. 

Great. They’re both pissed.

~~

When he comes into school the next day, Aran figures it will blow over like most of their petty squabbles. But to his surprise, it becomes clear once he reaches his classroom that neither of the twins are speaking to each other. It’s been awhile since a fight of theirs has lasted this long. He sighs, bracing himself for another ongoing feud.

After his first class, Aran makes his way to the locker room to get a textbook he forgot, when suddenly out of nowhere Atsumu bounds toward him and backs him into a locker. The room is completely empty save for the two of them, autumn sunlight streaming in through the window. 

Aran resents this but lets Atsumu press him against the lockers: he knows Atsumu has to feel like he is in control, that he’s getting his way, to calm down. Just like the stupid seat at the dinner table when they were kids.

“Who do you like better?” Atsumu asks, his face mere inches from Aran’s.

But this is different, somehow, Aran can sense it. The intensity in Atsumu’s voice, the way his eyes rove Aran’s face. It’s because of this that Aran doesn’t have the answer on hand like he usually does, and that he knows he can’t just tell Atsumu, “you, of course, but don’t tell Osamu,” like he would normally to smooth things over. And he knows he’s already failed when his eyes roll involuntarily in exasperation.

Atsumu pounds on the lockers on either side of Aran. “Don’t roll your eyes at me!”

“Lay off!” Aran yells, shoving Atsumu off him.

“Don’t push me!” Atsumu shoves Aran back into the locker with a slam.

And Aran can’t believe it, but then they’re rolling on the ground physically fighting. It should be Atsumu and Osamu on the ground, rolling around, scratching and swinging at each other, but it’s Aran who's dragged into it now.

When Aran thinks he hears the sound of nearby footfall or a door opening he rolls off Atsumu, remembering the fact he is Black in a Japanese school, in an actual fight with their golden boy. That’s an automatic expulsion if there ever was one. But maybe he's hearing things because the room still looks empty and he sees no one else there.

Both boys kneel on the ground, chests heaving, breathless, a scuff on Atsumu’s glowing, poreless cheek, some blood under Aran’s nose that he wipes off casually. Then Aran gets up.

“What the fuck,” he says. He slumps against the lockers. “What the actual fuck has gotten into y’all?” This is about something more than just a stupid birthday.

“Osamu told me he likes you,” Atsumu blurted.

Aran winces as if struck directly in the face. “Why are you telling me this?” This is the real problem: that Atsumu has betrayed his brother, and he’s made Aran an accomplice, which means Aran is going to have to choose one or the other by either outing Atsumu’s betrayal to Osamu or keeping it to himself. And he knows Atsumu well enough to be certain that this is precisely his goal.

“Do you like him back?” Atsumu asks.

It’s the last thing he should do right now but Aran laughs, his ribs scream bloody murder when when he does (has he cracked a fucking rib?), but he laughs, slumped against the lockers, holding himself. “How the fuck should I know?” It’s an honest answer. It’s sort of like asking a fish if it likes the ocean. Yes? No? Maybe? It’s the fucking ocean. It’s all the fish knows.

“Do you like me?”

Aran is shaking his head still laughing, not to mean no, just to mean, _this is crazy, what the fuck._ “Don’t do this, Atsumu.” But Atsumu has already pinned him to the lockers again, and before Aran can do anything about it, Atsumu jams his mouth against Aran’s so hard their teeth clack together.

Okay. Aran has to admit this isn’t bad. It’s kind of exhilarating and taboo in the way spying on your step sister or female cousin when she’s changing in her room might be. And Aran has to admit that Atsumu _is_ attractive—it’s the reason all the girls are always wetting their panties over him despite the fact he treats them like shit—and there’s something sort of flattering about being so desperately wanted by someone everyone else so desperately wants. Maybe Aran isn’t that different from the stupid screaming fan girls because he’s getting hard even with Atsumu biting on his lips and sloppily shoving his tongue in Aran's mouth like a stupid horny idiot who doesn’t know how to kiss, the little sharp stubble on Atsumu’s chin rough against Aran’s face.

Yeah. It’s kind of hot. 

A locker slams. They both look up. It’s Osamu standing over them, that frigid look on his face that he gets when Atsumu nails some super-human receive or serve on the court. That I’ll-never-be-good-enough look.

_Fuck._

~~

The next day, the twins still aren’t speaking to each other. Actually Osamu’s not speaking to Aran either. It’s just him and Atsumu at the moment, and that’s of course awkward as fuck after what happened.

Finally, Osamu corners Aran in the showers after practice, after the rest of the team has cleared out. Osamu slaps open the door to Aran’s shower stall without warning. “So are you and Atsumu dating or something?” Osamu asks.

Aran bristles as he shuts off the water—it’s weird being naked in front of Osamu now. He feels exposed in a way he never has before, despite having changed and bathed in front of him countless times since they were kids. 

“You know he’s just going after you because I told him that I like you,” Osamu says.

“I know. He told me you do.”

Osamu snorts in indignation. “Of course he fucking did.” He kicks the wall in anger. “I can’t have ONE fucking thing.”

Aran raises an eyebrow. “‘One fucking thing’… is that how you think of me?” 

“That’s not what I mean! You know what I mean!” He’s pacing back and forth muttering angrily now as if Aran isn’t there. “He always does this.”

“Why did you tell him then?”

Osamu stops, stock still, looking up at Aran with widened eyes.

And Aran can’t help but tsk then, his heart sinking. “I should have known,” he says, feeling a wry smile twisting at his lips. “You two really are predictable.” He wrenches his towel around his waist and storms out of the showers.

“Wait—Aran!”

But he ignores Osamu as he strides to his locker, quickly inputs the combination and yanks out his gym bag. He rummages around until he finds a pair of basketball shorts to put on and shoves his earpods into his ears. The twin’s entreaties are drowned out by the steady thrum of Japanese rap as Aran slams his locker door and stalks off. 

~~

Ah, how the tables have turned. Now it’s Aran giving the twins the silent treatment, with the circle closing on the other side. But Aran can’t help but feel he is at a distinct disadvantage. After all, the circle was made by them before he even got there. It was made when the two crazies were born, and it doesn’t even need Aran to continue to exist. He was foolish to think there could ever be a “third twin”—that he ever was anything more than a guest in their tiny, peculiar world.

And now he has cracked a fucking rib. A trip to the doctor on the insistence of his mother, who noticed him wincing at the dinner table, has confirmed it. She interrogates him once the doctor leaves the room, until he finally says he crashed into Atsumu during practice and thought nothing of it at the time. She is sitting next to him in the cramped office, the telltale x-ray on the wall, the hospital gown making Aran feel powerless and vulnerable the way hospital gowns do. The click of her tongue tells him she doesn’t really believe his story, but isn’t going to press him. She has always been wary of those twins, not for the same reasons as his father, but because they have always struck her as spoiled, so she has always thought they were trouble.

How right she turned out to be, Aran thinks, in the car ride back home. They’ve always been dangerous, but he didn’t want to believe it. He wanted to pride himself, like some idiot lion tamer who thinks he alone can control the beast, on his ability to reign in their absurd whims and reckless energy, only to get mauled to death one day. The sharp pain in his side when he breathes in too deeply is proof of how wrong he was.

~~

As the days pass, the twins orbit Aran warily during class and during practice which he sits out each day in a folding chair next to the coach, but they don’t come too close, like skittish cats, tentatively making offerings of a refilled water bottle, snacks or anything else he might want. Aran doesn’t have the energy to fend them off—or maybe he’s too scared to at this point. He takes everything they give him numbly, with barely a word or glance in their direction. He can tell they are contrite, that they feel so, so guilty, but it doesn’t fucking matter. They’re still fucking lions. And they still mauled him.

They don’t try to say anything to him beyond their stupid, trivial offerings of penance. Even as their birthday is fast approaching, they haven’t dared ask Aran for anything, not even forgiveness, but finally, the momentous occasion arrives, and Aran isn’t surprised when they approach him after practice.

“Do you wanna come over?” Osamu asks as Aran is packing up his stuff to go and the gym is almost empty. Atsumu is hovering nervously behind him.

Aran just gives them a sidelong glance. He doesn’t want to tell them no, but he _definitely_ doesn’t want to tell them yes.

“Come on, you can’t be like this forever,” Atsumu says, making these big puppy eyes. “It’s our birthday, you have to forgive us.” Osamu elbows him and mutters something, probably to make a show of calling out his brother’s manipulative, childish guilt-tripping, while not doing much to actually stop it.

But even though Aran sees right through all of this, and knows he should have nothing more to do with these freaks, he finds himself nodding in ascent. The way they both brighten in excitement actually makes his mouth twitch into the first semblance of a smile he’s had in days.

He was wrong, he realizes then. He still, even after all this time, needs to be in their circle, to be wanted by the cool kids everyone else so desperately wants. To be the only one who is good enough—no not good enough, _special_ enough to really, truly know them. All that complaining he does is really just a cover—Aran _wants_ to be the third twin, he _wants_ to be their only friend, he wants them to want him, even if it means they’ll tear each other, and probably also him, apart.

~~  
  
At their house, their parents notably absent, the twins continue their schtick of getting Aran things, being his little remorseful servants. The three of them are hanging out in the twins’ bedroom; Aran is sitting on the foot of Osamu’s bed, while Osamu swivels in an office chair and Atsumu stands, hovering over Aran near the bed. Osamu has pried his textbook from his bag and is offering to do Aran’s math homework for him, and Atsumu is plying Aran with more food from the fridge, this time left over skewers of dango.

“Can you guys stop with the groveling already?” Aran says. “You're freaking me out.”

Suddenly, all the tension drains from both twins' bodies, almost in unison, and it’s rare moments like this when they actually feel like twins to Aran. Normally, their polar opposite personalities just make them feel like two completely different people, but every once in a while, they sync up like moons with disparate orbits that happen to cross paths.

By that logic, Aran is the planet, and perhaps, dare he think it, the center of the circle?

“Sorry,” Atsumu says, scratching the back of his head and setting the plate of food on his desk untouched. 

“It’s just, we were so shitty to you,” Osamu says as he shuts his textbook. Again, they seem synced in that eerie way, and their sad, synchronized guilt only reinforces Aran’s impression of being the hinge of this contraption the three of them make, the cog that keeps this machine in motion. 

Maybe that’s why things spun so out of control before—they almost lost their center of gravity.

“It’s fine,” Aran finds himself saying, but then he shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s not fine. You two are crazy.” They both wince, but they don’t argue, their eyes on the floor. They still have that look of sad puppies that made a mess. And that’s the infuriating part. They didn’t even mean to do this. They can’t even help it. “What do you want from me?” Aran asks.

Atsumu takes a step forward. “Nothing. We want to be friends again. We talked it over and you were right. We were being dumb and possessive and shit. Fighting over you like you were our plaything. We’re sorry.” 

But it’s Aran’s turn to drop his eyes to the floor and look guilty. “It’s not completely your fault.”

“What?” they chorus.

Aran flinches at their synchrony again, that freakish twin synchrony that for some reason keeps cropping up right now. “I...let things get out of hand. I think I liked having you fight over me. I didn’t try to stop it.”

“We shouldn’t rely on you to resolve our fights all the time, though,” Osamu says.

“Yeah, that’s true but,” Aran swallows. "You know, I think I liked being that guy, the only one who can reign you two in, who knows you better than anyone else.”

The twins blink at him in surprise. Even now he feels his face go hot with their full attention on him like this, as he sits on Osamu’s bed with them watching him.

“I guess it sort of makes me feel special.” God, he feels so dumb saying it. Now they’re going to know how lame he is, how desperate he is to be in their circle, how arrogant he was to think he was the third twin.

He props his elbows on his knees and grinds his fists into his face, pressing the tears that threaten to come out back into his eyes, but when he feels a hand on his right shoulder and another on his left, he startles and looks up to see both twins standing over him now.

“You _are_ special,” Osamu says quietly. 

“We love you,” Atsumu says, his eyes glassy.

All Aran can manage is a small nod—if he says anything now, he will cry. The twins seem to understand, and they let their hands slip from Aran’s shoulders and avert their eyes while Aran just manages to collect himself. 

Emotionally exhausted, Aran sighs and falls back onto the bed and stares at the ceiling, feeling lightheaded with everything he has unloaded. To his surprise Atsumu and Osamu join him by falling back onto the double bed too, on either side of him. The three of them gaze up at the ceiling together for a long time.

And it could end here, peaceful, content, normal. But it can’t end here. Because being loved by the Miya twins means being loved soul and body; it means _belonging_ to them; it means being consumed, whole.

Out of the pregnant silence, as the three of them lie there, Aran jolts when he feels Atsumu smooth his fingers over his ribcage and lightly graze the injured rib. “Does it still hurt?” comes Atsumu's voice, soft and solemn. 

Aran can’t move, not even to look at him. “It’s getting better,” he lies. The doctor said it will take another month, and he’s barely noticed a difference.

“Mmm hmm,” is Atsumu’s response, his hand still caressing Aran’s chest. 

From the other side, Osamu lifts Aran’s arm and brings Aran’s fingers to his lips. Aran turns his head to look at Osamu, who slides Aran’s pointer finger into his mouth just as he locks eyes with him, and Aran feels his breath catch at the sight of it, the feel of it, Osamu taking his finger into his mouth, soft and slow and wet and warm.

And Atsumu climbs on top of Aran to straddle his hips and unbuttons his own jeans, getting that sly smile he gets when he’s going to take what he wants no matter what anyone else says.

Aran closes his eyes and tips his head back, feeling Osamu’s lips so close to his neck, the warmth of his breath gives him goosebumps. He lets out a groan when Osamu kisses him there, and Atsumu rolls his hips into the tent forming in Aran’s crotch through the fabric of Aran’s shorts. 

As Aran allows this to happen, to unfold, it feels like the inevitable conclusion to this madness. The twins fought over sitting next to him at dinner that night at their house when they first became friends, so in the end they both got to sit next to him. The twins fought over who Aran has feelings for, so now they both get to have him. 

Osamu’s hands push Aran’s shirt up until his chest is completely exposed and pinch at Aran’s nipples as Atsumu slides his own cock out and begins rubbing it against Aran’s crotch through Aran’s shorts, Atsumu’s hips jerking more desperately as he lets out quiet gasps in his exertions. Though Aran’s eyes are closed, his head tipped back as he thrusts into Atsumu’s gyrations, Aran can feel Osamu’s eyes on him just before Osamu takes his chin in his hand and turns his face toward him to kiss him on the mouth.

The kiss is soft and sensual, nothing like Atsumu’s rough treatment in the school hallway. Aran’s head is spinning as Atsumu grinds into him, sending waves of pleasure between his legs, and Osamu’s tongue slides up along the roof of his mouth, Osamu’s fingers sending electric shocks as they tweak at Aran’s hardening nipples.

Aran’s back is arched, and he is on the edge of coming, when Atsumu stops bucking against him and jerks himself into climax, splattering cum all over his stomach, and slides off of him. Osamu sits up and maneuvers over to Aran’s crotch and finally frees Aran’s hard cock from his shorts, stroking it gently in his hand with an intense look directly at Aran, who can’t meet Osamu's gaze directly as if it's a blinding light.

Then Atsumu takes his own fingers, wet with his own cum, and slides them under Aran’s shorts, and presses a tentative fingertip to Aran's tight entrance, causing Aran to groan deep in his throat, his legs kicking up in surprise. And Osamu takes that moment to slide his mouth over Aran’s cock, the sensation so overwhelming that Aran has to bite his lips to keep from crying out. His hips threaten to buck up and shove his cock deeper into Osamu’s mouth, but Atsumu pins Aran down as Aran grunts, panting and desperate, and Atsumu twists his finger back inside his hot puckered hole, spreading it with a come hither motion. 

The sensation of being spread, tight and hot by Atsumu’s finger, and of Osamu’s slick wet lips over his cock is so overwhelming that Aran cums unexpectedly into Osamu’s mouth, his body shuddering hard with the violent, harsh crescendo of pleasure that courses through him.

“Sorry,” Aran says, after he gets his bearings and his eyes flutter open to see Osamu cough in surprise and wipe the cum from his mouth. 

Atsumu tuts and shakes his head at Aran, that sinister smirk back on his face just before he prods his entrance again, this time pushing the finger in deeper. 

Gritting his teeth, Aran arches into the touch, burning and intense, as Atsumu slicks more cum from his dick onto his hand and from his fingers into Aran’s ass, and slides in a second finger.

Osamu starts working his fist over Atsumu’s cock, which is beginning to jump back to life between Aran’s legs at the burning, stretching pleasure in his ass, and now the slick fist jerking him. A sudden, intense throb shocks through Aran when Atsumu hits his prostate with his wet fingers, now pumping his asshole.

Suddenly, Osamu stops jerking Aran’s erection and gets up from the bed and onto his feet. “Let’s switch,” he says to Atsumu. 

Atsumu is prodding Aran’s prostate mercilessly, causing Aran’s hips and legs to buck in desperation. “Why should I?” he taunts.

“We’re not getting into it again. Your temper tantrum is the whole reason things went wrong.”

Atsumu clucks his tongue and Aran peers up at them both, seeing the look of barely suppressed rage on Atsumu’s features, while Osamu looks cool and inscrutable. He can’t believe it. Even now, they’re like this.

They glance back at Aran as if suddenly aware he is watching, and appear self-conscious and uneasy. Osamu ticks an eyebrow at Atsumu and crosses his arms, then Atsumu bows his head, a frown of consternation knitting his brow.

“Fine,” comes Atsumu’s begrudging voice, his fingers slowing then sliding out of Aran’s ass completely. Aran sits up, propped on his elbows to see both twins switch places, Atsumu getting on the bed and Osamu standing at the foot of the bed between Aran’s legs.

Whatever power struggle occurred, Osamu has miraculously won. Aran’s thoughts, muddled through the fog of arousal, try to follow what has transpired—what micro-communication has just been exchanged between the two. In these moments, he’s thrown out of orbit, he’s not the third twin, he’s on the outside looking in. But before Aran’s distress can take hold, Atsumu is bobbing his head fervently over Aran’s cock, taking his length into his hollowed cheeks, his tongue lapping over the head in an irresistible swirling motion that makes Aran go ballistic. It’s all he can do to hold back from thrusting deep into Atsumu’s mouth and throat, when the head of Osamu’s hard cock prods at his ass and stretches him open.

Throwing his head back, Aran can’t help but cry out as Osamu enters him and slides his penis in a couple inches. Tears burn at the corners of Aran’s eyes as Osamu presses in deeper, splitting him. Meanwhile, Atsumu takes Aran’s dick further into his mouth until Aran can feel the tightness of his throat around him, the twin sliding over him without so much as a flinch.

Osamu groans as he thrusts into Aran, the sound so deep and erotic it sends a tremor up Aran’s spine at how good Osamu must feel to be inside him. The pain then becomes bearable, Osamu standing at the foot of the bed between Aran’s spread legs, slowly churning into him. And Atsumu slides his mouth off of Aran’s cock, causing Aran’s eyes to flutter open in surprise. Atsumu kicks off his pants and then straddles him again, the bottom hem of the t-shirt he still has on bunched up behind his erect, veiny cock leaking pre-cum down the shaft. Then, Atsumu, to Aran’s shock, lowers himself onto him, the tightness of Atsumu's ass stretching over the head of Aran's cock, then slowly, steadily, down over the shaft, causing Aran to bite his lip and groan through his teeth at the hot, tight sensation around him.

Aran looks up to see them both, Atsumu straddling him, his thighs spread on either side of Aran’s hips, hard pink cock bouncing as he pumps up and down over Aran’s erection, Osamu standing just behind Atsumu, thrusting directly into Aran’s ass, looking like, from Aran’s view below, he might be fucking them both at once, if he didn’t know any better.

Aran doesn’t know if the twins have ever done anything like this together. He doesn’t know if they have planned this or if it’s just happening spontaneously. But he does know, now that he is deep inside Atsumu and Osamu is deep inside him, and Osamu reaches around to stroke his brother, that right now, the circle is complete.

**Author's Note:**

> I was possessed by the muse and pulled an all-nighter writing this. This is my first dark fic, and I’m proud of how it turned out, but I don’t know if many people will read it since it’s such a rare ship. I couldn't even find a slash tag for these three or any fics. I think I may be the first one to write this ship on Ao3?! It's got so much potential! There’s so many layers here, with the twins over-relying on Aran to settle their issues, and the three being so isolated from everyone else. The show doesn't go into Aran's race much, but I feel it could be a factor in his own isolation and willingness to put up with the twins. It's a lot to unpack.
> 
> Shoutout to Kinkykawa’s Miyacest fic, “Fundamentals.” It’s definitely different from my fic (no Aran, and there’s nothing explicitly the same), but I think the author’s psychological take on the twins and the depth and tone of their prose really inspired me. Please check it out in my bookmarks if you get the chance.
> 
> I appreciate any comments! Thank you so much to anyone who read this far.


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